1095 & Counting
by fujino ookami
Summary: Shiena spent her days mundane way. Otoya spent her days counting. A series of what could have happened.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: Again, I share my works on AOO, too under the same username._**

 _Disclaimer: Akuma no Riddle is Diomedea's._

 ** _To and Fro_**

A mail addressed to her was unlikely. She doesn't remember visiting an online shop then, much less place an order for additional _devices_ she would need to utilize a deed for.. well, whoever would find her work beneficial the very second she once again step foot in Myojo. Perhaps, the light brown envelop rightfully belonged next door – at least she thought so, but her name was on there and so is her complete address.

The contents, as it had turned out, are of her graduation diploma from Black Class along with a letter from Ichinose herself. The diploma alone was more than enough to indicate that the so-called competition was over. Yet she figured it was unnecessary as the class itself was nothing but a front to deceive unsuspecting eyes while numerous attempts and plots of ways to take Ichinose's life are put to play for different purposes. _Selfish_ – to an extent is how she'd like to describe it, and ironically, she's also admittedly guilty of. Seeing the letter that came with, however, explained it all; why the unneeded delivery of her diploma? Of course, to Haru it's different, and there was no way for her to suppress the small smile that hanged by the corner of her lips and the mix of amused and relieved feeling she had felt as she read through the redhead's writing. Haru is ever so endearing.

But Shiena couldn't think of anyone – anything for a potential origin of the mail she had received that day (before learning that it was from Ichinose.) She knew it couldn't possibly be from the previous organization she was once associated with. It couldn't possibly be a one-last-request sort of business from the firm; Collective Dismissal doesn't have any reason to upon personally announcing permanent withdrawal herself and cutting ties with a little less than a week following her hospital release. It couldn't be a death threat from them either; Collective Dismissal aren't as petty as the other assassination groups she's aware of. Although, there actually is one person that is likely to send her one, but she highly doubts the possibility. She doesn't think letters of such and the likes would manage to leave the premises of the facility.

Definitely not.

There's just no way.

 _Shiena-chan!_

 _It's me! Your beloved roommate! Are you surprised? Are you happy? I really think you should be happy, after all who wouldn't be happy to receive a letter from me? Or maybe you'd prefer some more cuts inflicted by yours truly? Ohh, Shiena-chan, don't you worry. I promise to come and get you when I get out of here! Three years shouldn't be that long, right? Right? Heh, until then, Shiena-chan! I miss you!_

 _Otoya_

Maybe not.

Now, where did she put the lighter again?


	2. Chapter 2

_**Afflict**_

Shiena keeps asking herself how.

She woke up spilling a couple of inaudible groans as she turned back to her side after turning off the alarm. Awhile later, she's up and on her feet, facing herself at the bathroom mirror with nonchalant hazel orbs staring back at her and a red toothbrush trapped in her mouth.

She was close to the reflecting object, but it still was blurry despite it situated just right in front of her – not that it would have changed anything. She already knew; a very bad eyesight (sleepy ones on top of that,) and unkept chestnut hair sticking out everywhere. _Whatever_. She thought right then and brushed her teeth.

It was a typical morning. Not by a bit any less than the previous ones. So _how_?

A caffeine-filled mug had followed, but was hardly finished.

She wasn't even running late. She didn't need to feel so either, but she was rushing and there was a feverish air to it – to her. Around her. It also smelled of sinister. A familiar scent of pure cunning just like how it all was when she was still part of the group with a perfect plan ready to be utilized for an ensured reward to be claimed.

In an oddly different and, _maybe_ , questionable attire, she found herself walking a familiar route to catch a bus.

Perhaps, the afternoon was completely different from the previous ones. _Still_ , how?

How did she end up from slipping in an empty computer room and successfully getting through Myojo's system and breaking down countless of firewalls, to the prison's visiting area, waiting at one of the many tables situated in the room, regretful than she has ever been her entire life.

What the fuck was she thinking?

" _Shiena-chan?"_

Oh. There.

" _My Shiena-chan!"_

There's her former classmate and roommate getting chastised by an officer who escorted her out of her cell for practically dashing to the table she was occupying, but the inmate only laughed it off.

"Ta.. takechi."

Now she sits right across her and she could have sworn she saw a familiar flicker in those azures that screams for the worse. Somewhat similar to whenever Shin'ya appears every sunset in a sense, but not quite so to say. There's darkness within those menacing pools that makes the tiny hairs on her nape rise.

"Did you miss me, Shiena-chan?"

Thank God the handcuffs weren't taken off around her wrists.

Still, she wonders how did she end up visiting Otoya of all people.


	3. Chapter 3

_**All the Way, Again**_

Otoya has been staring at her with a smug smile.

Shiena has been looking down at her lap beet red with a scowl.

They have been on this for quite a while now and it wasn't particularly because Otoya teased the living shit out of her again, contrary to popular belief. Were it to really be the case, she wouldn't be feeling as if all the blood circulating in her body decided it'd be a great idea to make it look like she's suffering from a fever. She would have been glowering back at her, and she wished that was what she's doing rather than avoiding her in the most tiresome way.

What really happened was the opposite of what seemed to be the norm whenever the _universe_ conspires for their paths to cross (or so Shiena believes as opposed to the reality she denies and put all the illogical blame to.) And it wasn't necessarily something to be agitated about either, but leave it to Shiena and self-consciousness.

Ever the ludic Otoya was extremely joyous to be informed that she has a visitor waiting, even more when she found out that it was Shiena. But Shiena would like to pretend she was not aware nor heard Otoya in the brink of announcing to the whole world with a wide grin that if not for her handcuffs, she would have hugged her tight then. And soon after being seated, Otoya impishly poked a familiar question that asked her whether she misses her in which she deadpanned with a flat no almost immediately. No way in hell, Shiena thought.

But she was asked _again_ :

" _Then what brings you here, Shiena-chan?"_

Indeed – what exactly? Even she wondered all of a sudden.

It made her think and want to think. However, doing it, pausing and taking so much time – won't it seem suspicious? So she did not and tried to sound firm and sure once again.

" _I.. I h-have.. some free time!"_

Otoya looked astounded; she blinked and just stared at her, bemused, whereas she looked more than ready to dig a hole to bury herself in. In fact, she really was. She stuttered and her pitch at the end went unusually high and off. Honestly, what the fuck kind of sound did she create? She asked herself, cheeks and ears burning to an unimaginable degree. And what kind of free-time bullshit was that? Again, she asked herself.

" _Oh?"_

Shiena knew right at that moment already, so she doesn't need to see it either. Otoya with her shit eating grin, that is. Because it's more than obvious that Otoya caught on her. She's not a very good liar herself to begin with, and thus she became uninterestedly interested with her maroon skirt. Exactly how long has it been, she doesn't have a single idea except the fact that her neck hurts and she badly wants to blame it all on Otoya.

Just because.

Even if it's really her fault.

Otoya just asked and she just answered.

Oh and, _free time_.

 _Oh sure_.

She has a book report due before ten in the evening, but she's at the prison again, caught in a situation that isn't really supposed to be _that_ kind of a serious situation. It wasn't really, anyway.

"Shiena-chan, doesn't your neck hurt?"

".. shut.. shut up.."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Musings of the Devil**_

What day was it again? And what time?

She could hardly remember.

Has it been that long since?

She could hardly answer.

Although, she remembers quite well.

She was in her cell, but to say that she was finally being a _good_ inmate for not concerning herself into any more attempt of escape, is an understatement. Perhaps she really was, but at that moment nothing interested her more than the book she borrowed from across. Picking the lock with the pin that she hid under her pillow and risking an additional three years of confinement can be done another time for all she cared. The book in her hands are far more interesting.

 _("Oi."_

" _Oi Jack the Ripper!")_

It was loud. Loud and clear. Loud enough for her to tear her eyes away from the pages and clear enough for her to grit her teeth in annoyance.

 _("Why hello there, officer!" Otoya greets with a cheery smile._

" _Finally.")_

The last time she checked, she was named Takechi Otoya and not Jack the Ripper, and that she was after young women who aren't all necessarily prostitutes. And she had a reason, too, aside from what was _known_ about her sprees – it was to preserve what _is_ pleasing to the eyes.

 _("You have a visitor.")_

She wanted to laugh and ask who in their right mind would want to see her. In fact, she did.

She did laugh and she did ask, but it was also her who answered her own question:

Nobody.

There's nobody who would do that. Nobody insane enough to go out of their way. Nobody in their right mind who would want to see her face again. The detective who was after her couldn't even stomach the sight of her. Why of course, he couldn't. His daughter was one of her many victims after all, and she thought how amusingly small the world really is.

 _("Oi." The officer called again, irate, slammed his truncheon against the bars to get her attention. "Stop wasting my time already and just come out here.")_

Maybe it was one of those pests from the media again hoping to _uncover_ the truth behind her notoriously unrestrained bouts. As if she would easily give them what they wanted. Never, she thought. They will remain in the dark.

It could also have been those who were left behind. But what for? To weep until there's no more tears left for them to cry out? To bawl until their lungs dries out and their throats burn? To make her cower as conscience eats her? But she doesn't have any, feels nothing, and she can watch them – look them in the eye feeling no guilt, no remorse.

She listened to the familiar sound of locks clicking on one another and felt the cold metal against a part around her wrists. She stared down at the irons that bounded her as she walked while being closely escorted out to a particular area.

Who is it? She kept asking herself and finally – subjectively and aloud she asked, only to find the answer tables away.

 _Shiena._

And yet she still questions why.


End file.
